


Break the Lock If It Don't Fit

by handschuhmaus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Character Study, Domestic Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:47:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handschuhmaus/pseuds/handschuhmaus
Summary: "I would love to go/back to the old house/but there's too many bad memories/too many memories there"-The SmithsA period away from it doesn't make Palpatine family life look any better. (Whether Damask is even an improvement is also debatable.)





	Break the Lock If It Don't Fit

**Author's Note:**

> I can't say I'd previously considered writing a modern AU where he's more or less my age, but then I did...
> 
> Title borrowed from and inspiration planted by Florence + The Machine's "Kiss With A Fist".
> 
>  **Warning** for assorted domestic abuse, including physical, and discussion of suicidality.

In lieu of a greeting, it was "I don't like the path you're following," as soon as he stepped from the street onto the driveway. And he could feel disapproving eyes staring at the recent-but-not-new Corolla.

(Hego Damask was not extravagant. He would pay more than anyone else Palpatine had ever met for lab equipment, probably because Palpatine hadn't met many people who ever bought lab equipment, but he had forbidden new cars, sports cars, and anything else that did not strike him as a decent value. Nevermind what Palpatine would have preferred.)

"You weren't asked," he said curtly, trying to make five foot five topped with unruly red hair look more intimidating than it ever had. Intimidating had to be the only way to go with Cosinga at this point, except that he was unlikely to actually intimidate the man. 

Physically, it wasn't as if Cosinga loomed over him, but about three inches and the weight of middle age went a long way in garnering a healthy and automatic respect for a man's physical abilities. Then again, Damask was a scarecrow, tall and lanky, a full thirteen inches above his protege.

"Then why are you here?" his estranged father demanded.

Palpatine bit down vitriol and bile and allowed, "I don't quite want to be disowned, as great a pleasure as I'm sure it would give both of us."

Cosinga fixed his eyes fast on the younger man's face, shining disapproval. "I knew you were no good the first time I set eyes on you."

It was a bad idea in Cosinga's eyes to look away under the circumstances but he was manifestly tempted. He wasn't sure he trusted the bastard's idea of "good" but certainly Damask had claimed the teen was anything but the model son at their first meeting, and his own judgement had him something of a monster, in form and nature.

"In any case, perhaps you can find it within you to behave yourself for once," Cosinga snapped, abruptly donning the mask of an upstanding and even obsequious citizen. In an oily voice, he elaborated "This gala is extremely important to the future political successes of this family."

Palpatine was quite certain it had no bearing whatsoever on Damask's vague ideas of his running for office and so the assertion was not really accurate, but then again Cosinga probably didn't even approve of his being politically active.

"Governor--" he greeted, and the disobedient son turned to see an older man accompanied by a younger one, both in suits, and two women in elaborate but ...revealing costumes. Palpatine did not listen to their conversation, largely because he expected to find it disgusting, but refraining had the side benefit of not further annoying Cosinga.

"Would you like some refreshments?" It was, of all people, his eldest sister. Her dress was fancy but seemed to be causing her discomfort, as she carried a tray of drinks around. "I didn't recognize you!" she said after a moment, and then, furtively, "I wish I'd've followed you."

"I--" his thoughts raced back to one of what he had mentally labeled interrogation sessions, even though that was not their intended purpose, with Damask looming over him, bearing menace Palpatine had little anticipated his having. "I'm not sure you'd like it." After a moment, he thought to ask "But why is he making Mother's birthday a political occasion?"

"He didn't want to do anything for it. She didn't even care to celebrate. But because she didn't want any party, he used it as an excuse."

"That's--" but he didn't finish. That was objectionable, but also simply the way Cosinga and indeed Damask, if not all men, worked.

Mother came out of the house now, wearing some sort of shapeless and faded dress that did not suit Cosinga's party at all. And she approached them, took one of glasses from the tray, and greeted him by his rejected first name.

"You--ah--don't look well," he commented. Growing up, he had come to know his mother as a person, he reflected, but somehow he was still at a loss about how to interact with her.

"You could look better yourself. Your hair is too long." This struck him as a particularly incongruous comment given that he had just had a haircut, and it was shorter than Cosinga's.

"Is this the birthday lady? And your daughter?" the governor, if that's who he was, looked at the two women with obvious disgust plastered over his face and pity in his voice.

Cosinga did not form a coherent reply. Palpatine had some knowledge of Cosinga's reactions, and it would not be far amiss to say that he was incoherently mad at this point, but desperately attempting to preserve composure and a favorable impression.

"I'll just go in, shall I?" the politician presumed.

"You SCUM!" Mother yelled as soon as the governor was plausibly out of earshot, as a vicious look came to her husband's face. "You hypocrite!" 

Looking vaguely repulsed by her own actions, and moving with some timidity in her righteous anger, she drew back her fist and punched Cosinga in the nose, evoking a stream of blood. She got in a second jab with her other hand to his eye, which her son strongly suspected would be a black eye, before he stepped back. Probably the only reason she succeeded in this was that he absolutely didn't expect it.

"How dare you! He is a fine man!"

"He touched you. He deserves to be ruined." Cosinga's tone was icy, belieing the anger building like a thunderstorm.

"You misused the legal system to destroy a _gardener_ because he talked to me and stopped me tripping over _your_ ...stereo parts and into the flower bushes _you_ wanted, _and_ I'm attracted to him and you have not one but two mistresses installed in apartments and outright paid some girl too." She yelled the whole litany.

"You bitch." Blood flowed freely from his face, but his voice was measured and even chillier. 

"You wouldn't care if I killed myself. If I went and drove your precious Mercedes onto the off ramp, you'd only cry over the damn car." 

"You're wrong. I'd buy a new one with the insurance money and cry in it at the funeral." There was something menacing in that tone, and Palpatine was fighting an urge to simply flee.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Nabarrie had just pulled up and exited his car, and he seemed concerned for Cosinga. The question defused the situation, at least partly.

The mask for the neighbors came back, and his voice became inscrutably calm "I'm fine, Ruwee. Just trying to deal with the prodigal son over here."

The inner voice that had periodically pored over a couple of Lemony Snicket's books, wondering how accurate they really were about human nature, said _'but prodigal means generous, and I have not been generous nor have I requested my non-existent inheritance, nor did you welcome me back.'_

"Children can be so difficult," sympathized the man, who could not be more than five years older, if that, than Palpatine. And then he walked past them towards the house.

"Go back in and go to the basement and don't come out till I tell you. I don't care if this _is_ your birthday party," Cosinga hissed at his wife, some invisible menace hiding in his voice.

"As for _you_ \--" he turned to Palpatine, and suddenly, drew back his hand and slapped his son in the face. "Go back to wherever it is you went." He grabbed Mother by the shoulder and dragged her towards the house.

"Are you alright?" his sister asked after a moment.

"It's nothing," Palpatine said, even though his face stung so much that it nearly drowned out all else. After a moment, he confided quietly, "He told me if I didn't come he'd disown me. But I don't think he wanted me here, either."

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in two sessions and I'm not as pleased with the second one, honestly, but...
> 
> (Incidentally, because I too often use my phone on here, lately I haven't been able to get creative with tagging because some combination of factors means that I'm not being given an option to accept an original tag with the return key)


End file.
